


sober II (melodrama)

by orphan_account



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Clubbing, Friends With Benefits, Implied Unhealthy Relationships, M/M, Pining, Underage Drinking, all inspired by a history quote, an experimental piece, history major beomgyu, narration heavy and lots of random metaphors, singer hyuka, the tyunning is very briefly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it’s a few days later when beomgyu mindlessly decides to direct the same question towards kai.“do you think it’s better to be feared or loved?”
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Huening Kai, Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun, Huening Kai/Kang Taehyun
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	sober II (melodrama)

**Author's Note:**

> when i first proposed this idea, i had billed this fic as a drabble, saying that it would maybe turn out to be one or two thousand words at the most. clearly, that did not go to plan.
> 
> nonetheless, i love beomkai and love to write them. the prompt behind this oneshot? a quote from machiavelli, who i had to re-study for the first time in a few years because of an upcoming history exam that i had— one i probably ended up failing, but it birthed this fic, so i guess it's all alright. the story may be a little rough around the edges, but i hope you can still enjoy.

_“is it better to be feared or loved?”_

the first time beomgyu hears this quote, he is maybe fourteen years old, and while it’s fun to ponder for a single, forty-minute class period, beomgyu surely doesn’t think of it all too much after that. he’s too young then, still preoccupied with what was the biggest news of those times, including the latest album releases by those popular artists that him and his classmates were particularly fond of, and whether or not he should attend his high school’s annual autumn dance that same week.

it’s not until nineteen year old beomgyu is sitting smack dab in the middle of a college lecture that the question takes greater prominence to him.

see, if beomgyu would have told that aforementioned, fourteen year old version of himself that he would be seriously considering choosing history as his future major, then the younger beomgyu would have probably laughed right in his own face. it had just never been something on beomgyu’s radar.

but surprise, surprise, because there beomgyu was, right in a first year, political philosophy class that would help him knock out some requirements if he was really going to be an aspiring history major. that semester, beomgyu is consequently forced to study “the prince” (a work that most people either completely love or loathe, he quickly finds out) for one of his earlier projects. 

and, well, beomgyu had recently morphed into something of a stickler for his grades. it didn’t use to be this way, at least not to this extent, but he’s now competing against his classmates for the same, small handful of internships in their compact college town. if he doesn’t end up landing one, beomgyu would be forced to find another gig further away, making him become a frequenter of public transportation due to his current lack of a functioning car. beomgyu would then have to spend even more money, and the price of a thirty-day bus pass was looking a little too steep for beomgyu’s budget, especially with these coveted internships being unpaid ones. he resolves to avoid a lengthy commute at all costs. 

so beomgyu immerses himself in that book for a couple of weeks, so much so that yeonjun offhandedly comments that he hasn’t seen beomgyu without the short paperback or the notebook where beomgyu had been scribbling out his outline for an upcoming assignment based on said text. beomgyu looks up at the older boy a little blearily when he cracks that joke, and yeonjun immediately offers to get him another coffee— probably on the basis that there are huge bags underneath beomgyu’s eyes, ones a dark, rich indigo in color on account of a few too many late nights.

beomgyu immediately nabs the cup when yeonjun returns, eager for the caffeine boost. yeonjun just chuckles, plopping down in a seat across from the younger boy at the campus cafe that they like to frequent.

this was how things always were— beomgyu just a little sleep deprived and yeonjun, despite his teasing personality and arsenal of bad jokes, ever so sweet and helpful when beomgyu needed him most. sometimes soobin, yeonjun’s boyfriend of around a year, would come by as well, despite him going to a completely different university altogether. beomgyu is incredibly grateful for their company, so much so that he’s willing to ignore how affectionate the two of them are if it means that they’ll keep doting on him. 

because unfortunately for beomgyu, his college experience doesn’t end up being nearly as pleasant as people had previously made it out to be, but yeonjun and soobin are always eager to share little, fun tidbits from their own lives, and even the smallest of their caring acts help to nurture their younger friend. beomgyu bids them goodbye every afternoon with his half-finished coffee in one hand and a short wave sent from the other, which is the most he can ever manage while still keeping a firm grip on his class notes. beomgyu always leaves said cafe feeling a tinge more joyful than when he first arrived.

but yeonjun, soobin, and the coffee are only part of beomgyu’s energy, because huening kai, beomgyu’s roommate for the year, is somehow that and everything more. 

the two of them breeze through their normal routine, with the slightly younger boy greeting beomgyu after he enters their shared room, and reacting in that usual sheepish way of his when beomgyu admits that yes, his singing was audible from out in the hallway. kai blushes all pretty at that statement, but the music major continues with his practice mostly undeterred, besides toning down the volume of his voice just the slightest bit. 

beomgyu thinks he got lucky; with all of the random roommate horror stories that he’s heard over the years, beomgyu truly is grateful to have gotten assigned to live with a charming boy with a nice voice and an even nicer personality. him and huening kai were surely a little awkward with one another after meeting for the first time, but they eventually grew quite comfortable once they realized just how many commonalities they shared, including everything from their music preferences to their taste in certain snacks. beomgyu finds himself excusing the cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream that is sitting in their mini fridge, even when kai giggles and insists in a slightly whiny tone that it’s a good flavor, and that beomgyu needs to give it another chance (which the older boy doesn’t, despite him considering it for a moment or so, but then again, there were certain opinions that beomgyu remained unwilling to go back on).

beomgyu just sighs when he finally takes out his laptop, which he has set the lockscreen of to a picture of his calendar so that his due dates stare right back at him whenever he so much as dares to open it. reluctantly, beomgyu leans over the side of his bed to shuffle through his bookbag, pulling out a few of the readings that were required for him to get a start on the bulk of this assignment, but kai poorly stiffles his laughter when the older boy almost tumbles off of his bed in the process. beomgyu shoots him a dark look that lacks any real malice, and kai knows this deep down; beomgyu thinks that the younger boy has to at least know that, but kai still goes back to singing just the same.

it’s a few days later when they’re back in that exact same spot, and beomgyu is lazily flipping through one of the history textbooks sitting out on his bed in order to find sufficient evidence for one of his claims, that he mindlessly decides to direct the same question towards kai.

“do you think it’s better to be feared or loved?” 

if kai is startled at the sudden intrusion on the silence that had fallen over their dorm room that day, he doesn’t show it. the younger boy just quirks an eyebrow— it’s an attractive expression on him, because of course it is— and lets out a chuckle.

“machiavelli, huh? still doing research for your essay?”

“humor me,” beomgyu half-answers the younger boy, pushing himself up onto his elbows. kai, from where he’s perched on the edge of his own bed, shifts to plop down next to beomgyu, who is all too aware of how the taller brunette is now only inches away, of how the side of kai’s hip briefly bumps against his own. it’s only a bit of fleeting warmth but it somehow feels all-consuming to beomgyu anyway. 

kai moves to peer over the older boy’s shoulder, taking in the excerpt that beomgyu is reading. after briefly examining the page, kai swiftly lifts his head back up so that it’s level with beomgyu’s own sightline.

“loved,” the younger boy answers simply, a result that is not at all unexpected to beomgyu. “it’s better to be loved.”

that’s who kai was, someone who beomgyu had grown to see as synonymous with the very term of love itself. because the younger boy was bursting at the seams with just that; kai had so much love to give, and it was evident in everything from the daily phone calls he’d still make to his family, to the tenderness with which he treated his plushies, and even how he was often willing to drop his plans for the day to take over a coworker’s shift if they were having a scheduling conflict. kai was a do first, ask later kind of guy, and having an affinity for the tall brunette and his kind disposition was normal; in fact, beomgyu thinks that everyone does to some extent, because when someone gives it their all like kai does, others feel inclined to try and reciprocate tenfold, and kai just gives, and gives, and _gives_. 

beomgyu glances back up too, locks eyes with kai from the short distance that they’re sitting apart, and almost shivers under the youngest boy’s gaze. kai, who had answered with love, and then there was pitiful little beomgyu who still felt like he had a better grip on the concept of fear, even after spending the last weekend poring over one hundred and sixty-four pages of “the prince” and its big question.

because it was scary for beomgyu, to be like this, for him to become spellbound whenever kai was around. it was terrifying to look at a person and feel this constant, neverending pull to be near them, because close was never quite close _enough_. 

beomgyu asks himself how he can possibly tell the younger boy that he reserves the softest of his smiles for him, that they’re the first person who he has let eat his leftovers, and that he would make another run to the local pharmacy at three in the morning for him and him only (because beomgyu had done just that already, back when kai had fallen ill towards the latter part of the winter season and they were out of flu medicine)? how does beomgyu communicate a reality that leaves his head dizzy and heart racing?

beomgyu figures that he just can’t, and so he doesn’t.

because actions— his own actions— are telling, and beomgyu knows this, but even so, he continuously fails to make meaning of them. beomgyu can’t properly translate his emotions into words, can’t make them convey the same things that his unabashed, big and toothy smiles do whenever kai hits a particularly difficult note or when he beats a new level in those beloved video games of his. kai gets to see those first hand, can capture an everlasting photo of such a sight with his own two eyes, but he’s oblivious to the murky waters of beomgyu’s mind. 

and maybe beomgyu had just been spending a little too much time with soobin, who had a particular affinity for magic and witchcraft and all things vaguely spiritual, because he thinks— a little foolishly so— that he can control these spells. that if he just cracks a joke about kai being a softie, before quickly shooing the younger boy off of his bed with the half-truth of needing to focus on his essay, that these actions would somehow be the ingredients to a remedy for this love potion that beomgyu seemed to be poisoned with. 

beomgyu’s head snaps back down to the notebook perched in his lap, but not before taking in that last sight of kai, with his plumped lips pursed ever so slightly. the younger boy briefly opens his mouth before closing it immediately, jumping off of beomgyu’s elevated, twin-sized bed. beomgyu brushes the gesture off, simply cracking a smile as he watches kai bound back over to his own desk.

beomgyu gets his claim and a rough portion of the introductory paragraph done that night. kai then asks him if he wants to get dinner, and the two of them end up eating cheap bowls of ramen in their dorm’s small living space that night. 

beomgyu is a rather good pretender, he thinks. but he can pretend all he wants, act like he doesn’t stare a little too hard when kai slurps up some ramen noodles and runs his tongue along his full bottom lip. it doesn’t change the fact that, in principle, he did just that.

so it’s no surprise when this culminates, especially not when both them choose to surpass going home for spring break, because beomgyu had just landed that internship he had been working up to, and kai’s extensive family was going off on some expensive cruise for a week, so the younger boy was stuck on campus as well. there is a fairly decent-sized crowd staying back, but yeonjun and soobin are off to the latter’s childhood home for a quick vacation, so beomgyu ends up spending even more of his time in the dorms than usual, which means more time with kai by his side.

and sure, beomgyu’s feelings start unearthing themselves more and more by the day, but how could he be mad at such a fact when he gets to map the pattern of moles dotting the younger boy’s face and learn to take better note of the way kai’s eyes would sometimes crinkle, nose shriveling up too when he grins at one of beomgyu’s jokes. maybe the sun shines a little brighter on beomgyu’s days then, especially on that one afternoon when they’re sharing a case of beer that kai had gotten from some of his upperclassmen friends, and the two of them are going through every movie in their netflix catalog that they take even slight interest in, because beomgyu had just gotten off of a last-minute closing shift at the local repair store and was very much in the mood to shut his brain off for a little while.

they’re both sobering up when the kiss happens, but beomgyu still doesn’t quite know how they got there, just remembers rolling over so fast to meet kai’s embrace as they both melted into one another, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

beomgyu loves it, loves the way his name falls out of kai’s lips when the younger boy gasps it out. maybe it was the fact that the taller brunette was a singer, but it sounded like the sweetest melody, the way his voice swelled around the word.

beomgyu thinks that, just maybe, he’d do anything to hear kai say it like that again.

and well, being cooped up in their dorm for the two weeks that spring break lasts, beomgyu has many more opportunities to do just that. the shorter, black-haired boy quickly figures out what kai likes, where to rest his hands, where to tug and nibble, how to lick into the younger boy’s mouth in such a way that kai keens and his legs turn to jelly. but it’s just kissing, beomgyu justifies, even as he puts maximum effort into making sure that kai was enjoying it (because he cares, secretly cares more than anything). because beomgyu has kissed maybe thirty guys in his lifetime, and a good chunk of those guys had continued to be completely casual with beomgyu, with zero changes to their preexisting relationships, so why wouldn’t it be the same with kai?

that was that, beomgyu decided. him and kai were just having fun. thoughts of any further discussion made beomgyu go a little dazed, maybe even a little panicky.

when kai asks him to go out one night, beomgyu thinks that is what’s happening when his cheeks immediately go hot. but then kai laughs, a tinkling sound that seemingly shoots beams of light into the air, before the younger boy points out the red tinge to beomgyu’s skin. 

but fear didn’t feel like this, didn’t cause rushes of pleasure shooting through beomgyu’s body or sparks set alight on his fingertips, didn’t feel like vast, summer meadows and the daintiest of flowers, much like the ones that kai would propagate on his half of the dorm. fear wasn’t characterized by this pleasant kind of warmth, wasn’t comparable to the feeling of bright rays of sunshine against his skin.

and so beomgyu accepts, lets kai take him out on a few informal outings, really without so much as a second thought. a trip to the movies here, dinner at a restaurant there, little things complete with stolen kisses in the middle of parking lots and under rows of bleachers and wherever beomgyu feels safe, because of course kai is understanding, notices the cues in beomgyu’s behavior and works to accommodate them. beomgyu, even if he doesn’t say anything, is grateful.

it’s not until spring break is over, and they’re still doing this thing, and maybe beomgyu doesn’t notice that they’re dancing around each other— more accurately, that he’s dancing around kai— until yeonjun points it out, because beomgyu is adamant that this is still all good, casual fun. beomgyu knows he’s a good kisser, has been told that plenty, and he thinks that is it, as if the nature of his skilled lips can explain everything blossoming between him and his younger roommate. but then yeonjun, who is lab partners with one of kai’s best friends, tells beomgyu that kai really, _really_ likes him, and beomgyu blanches a little after hearing that, doesn’t end up giving a concrete response at all. yeonjun slightly raises one of his perfectly arched eyebrows at that, but doesn’t say much; he’s not one to push beomgyu, and beomgyu isn’t one to be pushed.

there’s a friend from a gen-ed language class that beomgyu is taking who throws a little birthday bash the next week, and it’s at some dingy old club right off of campus grounds, but beomgyu goes even though friday nights have lately involved a movie or two that he and kai would watch together, maybe even a trip to the local corner store where kai would inevitably fight to pay for beomgyu’s slushie and they’d go up on the dorm’s rooftop to stargaze a little afterwards. but the younger boy is, as always, so encouraging and understanding when beomgyu tells him of his plans for the evening, and beomgyu is sent off with kai’s usual, million-watt smile as the last thing he sees before the door to his room shuts behind him, and beomgyu just feels so, so numb. 

beomgyu lets some boy he meets that night dance with him, kiss him all long and slow, right up against the bar when most of the crowd has stepped away. the wooden countertop is digging into his back, leaving an undeniable bruise that beomgyu knows will show up the next morning, all plum-colored and hideous against his usually flawless skin. the kiss doesn’t make him feel anything close to what he does when it is kai’s lips who are against his, but it’s something, and maybe beomgyu is just thankful for that. he ends up declining an offer for the two of them to get food together, but the mystery boy still slips a piece of paper containing his phone number in beomgyu’s back pocket, and beomgyu leaves the club a little after two in the morning, coming home to a silent room except for the steady, quiet rhythm of kai’s breathing. 

when beomgyu later lets the details of his night slip out in front of yeonjun and soobin, the two of them look at him as if he had just kicked soobin’s family dog, and the guilt does settle in then, however vaguely, but beomgyu still thinks— hopes, maybe— that everything is fine. he and kai weren’t exclusive, they weren’t anything more than just two friends who may or may not be attracted to another, and that was okay. they were okay.

still, beomgyu subconsciously begins to pull away; trips to the club become more frequent, sessions for this study group he just joined begin to override shared dinners and whatever other plans he and kai would usually have. maybe beomgyu even picks up an extra shift at work once his internship comes to an end, though he’d never openly admit to it. maybe he accepts a few more dates too, and kai watches with heavy eyes as beomgyu slips on a pair of chic black boots to complete his outfit for the night, dabs on an extra layer of tinted chapstick, and accidentally slams the door shut as he goes. that sound echoes throughout the cramped dorm room, and bounces off the walls of the narrow hallway that beomgyu trudges down. he can still hear it ringing until the elevator doors in front of his face close and he’s plummeting down, down, down to the bottom floor of their building. 

kai doesn’t say anything until one saturday evening, when he’s climbing on over to beomgyu’s bed. it’s easy enough— kai goes to position his knees so that he’s straddling each side of beomgyu’s midsection from where the older boy is laying down, just like he’s done dozens of times before, but beomgyu hesitates to close the gap between them. 

subtlety: still not one of beomgyu’s many art forms. so kai notices, pushes himself up a little so that he can look into beomgyu’s eyes. the taller boy gently asks if beomgyu wants him to give him some space, and beomgyu can’t even think to get a word out, just surges forward to connect their lips in a kiss that is more teeth than anything else, all messily clacking against each other. it should utterly suck, but beomgyu still thinks it’s kind of wonderful— addicting, too— so he dives back in for another one, or three. 

but then it’s morning once more, and beomgyu is breezing out of the dorm without so much as a glance over his shoulder until he hears the lock click in place. 

tension mounts like waves. it’s bearable at first, when the ripples are small and kind of just brushing at your feet. but then they start to grow, larger and larger until they’re towering over beomgyu’s small frame. there’s nothing he can do to prevent them from crashing against the shore, engulfing him in its tides.

they drag him down with them.

beomgyu comes home one night to see kai sitting in his desk chair, aimlessly twirling around a pen with his long, nimble fingers, and a pair of black slacks on. the tv is playing at a low volume, with some drama that kai had recently been obsessed with on screen— there were far too many instances recently where beomgyu had returned to the younger boy being fast asleep with said show still on. beomgyu takes one look at the slightly loosened, maroon-colored tie still hanging around kai’s neck, and immediately pieces together bits of memories that begin to whirl around in his head: kai had a showcase tonight, beomgyu hadn’t shown up, and while he never explicitly said that he would, because work schedules could get kind of crazy sometimes, and both of them knew this, but beomgyu had only missed one out of the previous five or six before that night. he was, on principle, supposed to come.

 _your eyes tell_ , beomgyu thinks, and kai’s say it all. 

_why didn’t you come?_ and _what is your problem? _and_ do you not want this? not like i do?_

the pain is written across kai’s face, clear as day, and it’s a sight so unfamiliar to beomgyu that it startles him. kai’s eyebrows are unnaturally knit together, cheeks sucked in, and the exhaustion paints its way across all of his features, most noticeably in the sunken regions right underneath his eyes. it feels like a bucket of ice water to the face, a surefire wake up call that beomgyu had been trying to ghost for weeks on end, but kai was the one person that beomgyu couldn’t ignore; the younger boy was not one to put his emotions out on a silver platter, never one to reveal what was eating at him, but now it was just all there. 

beomgyu can immediately feel the way his own throat tightens, almost like he was allergic to this, allergic to kai being hurt, as if he hadn’t spent the last hour out in town, as if he hadn’t already slept in friends’ rooms twice that very week in order to avoid the inevitable confrontation with his roommate, as if he hadn’t severed their relationship— whatever it was, or had been— so badly that everything now felt like it had soured, similar to the taste of that cheap, acidic beer the two of them had downed so many times, the type that beomgyu kept on drinking despite the way it stirs bile in the pit of his stomach and makes him feel oh so sick.

beomgyu slips his shoes off quietly, walking towards the center of the room, right near the spot where kai is seated. he turns to slip into his bed, maybe stutter out an apology or something along those lines in the process, but kai beats him to it; he’s the one to break their quiet spell.

the silence shatters like glass, and all it takes is a simple click of kai’s tongue.

“your lips are swollen.”

beomgyu’s eyes widen at that, and then his hands are fumbling in his back pocket for his phone so he can whip out a camera. but just as kai’s words promise, beomgyu’s lips are cherry red and had clearly been bitten, the work of some guy who beomgyu had met that night. beomgyu curses himself for not stopping at a bathroom to check his slightly disheveled state before returning home, because what he had been up to was now more than obvious; kai had just made it clear that it was.

a part of beomgyu thinks that he could be mad, maybe even should be mad, at kai’s little statement, which are the only words that the younger boy speaks to him for the rest of the night excluding a quiet “good night, beomgyu,” that kai whispers out right before getting into bed himself. because beomgyu’s gut is churning, and the tips of his ears are aflame, blazing red in color, and everything points to it being anger coursing through his system until the clock strikes three o’clock that morning and beomgyu is still awake, with only the sound of his ragged breathing as company. beomgyu wouldn’t dare to turn on a light or the tv and risk startling kai, not when the younger boy was still sleeping so peacefully, and it hits him then, in the darkest and most quiet hours of the night, that maybe it’s not anger he’s dealing with, but shame.

they say that people study history to learn from the past, to prevent themselves from repeating certain mistakes. but beomgyu thinks that maybe part of growing up is realizing that the cycle doesn’t end in the simple, clear-cut manner that he wants it to, because in some ways, all of this was just the worst kind of inevitable.

beomgyu was an aspiring history major, and he had flicked through many, many documents and accounts of different events, analyzing all the ways that love was woven into these stories, an integral part of the full picture even as a background piece. and yet, despite all that prior experience, beomgyu still felt utterly clueless, because none of the things that he’s studied had ever been about huening kai, or how he could make beomgyu’s insides melt like his favorite strawberry flavored popsicles would in the hot summer sun, and that made all the difference to the older boy.

_“how do you not know what you feel?” soobin had asked beomgyu a bit ago, quirking his brow at his younger friend. “seriously— we’re just all a little confused here, gyu.”_

_and well, that certainly made two of them. the younger boy had chuckled a little on the inside at that very fact, but let a brief silence engulf their table as he mulled over his response._

_“i don’t know if that’s it,” beomgyu finally ended up answering, subconsciously allowing his tongue to wet his bottom lip before preceding._

_“maybe i do know what i feel, maybe i don’t. it’s just that, when it finally is all uncovered, will it actually be enough?”_

there’s no one that can answer that overarching question besides him and kai, and beomgyu knows this. the wave presses forward, continues its charge towards the shore, and it’s only a matter of time at that point.

they kiss twice more after that, but kai tastes bitter now, and beomgyu thinks that’s a little metaphorical, despite the knowledge that it’s just because of the shot of liquor that the younger boy had taken a short while before said kiss. maybe it’s a little desperation from the both of them, because beomgyu naively believes that maybe, just maybe, if he managed to mold his lips against kai’s in a way that would convey all the things he couldn’t say, things that he still didn’t understand, that the two of them would be alright.

however, beomgyu still stays out late most nights, and kai busies himself with tasks of his own as well. meanwhile, the little, shared moments that they manage to slip in just don’t seem to be quite cutting it, and the fissures are growing by the second, splintering the two of them into a million pieces that fly in every direction.

and it’s a little haunting, beomgyu thinks, how kai— by contrast— manages to perfectly express everything he wishes to say, even without having to verbalize these thoughts.

kai’s strong, unfaltering look from across the room asks _what scares you?_

and then their lips are pressing together, and kai swipes his tongue along beomgyu’s lower lip while carding his fingers through the shorter boy’s hair to say _i like you._

afterwards, when the two of them have just parted and are still lingering inches apart, lips so close that they can feel each other’s breath ghosting across their skin, and they could lean in again but kai stops himself, removes a hand from beomgyu’s waist and sits himself back upright on the bed— that and all of these new, longing gazes that kai directs his way pose the question _but why won’t you let me?_

beomgyu doesn’t have an answer, so he doesn’t give one. he stays silent, leaves the test blank despite what his teachers always say to do in an empty cheer to _try your best!_

and that’s when they break.

beomgyu remembers quite a few exes that had scoffed at him during fights or break ups, wanting him to feel stupid, which had always ended up backfiring on his stubborn little soul. so on that one, fateful day when it simply becomes too much for either of them, when the ripples morph into something with the intensity of a swelling, rogue wave, just looking at kai’s crestfallen face maybe crushes beomgyu a little bit. because beomgyu’s never seen kai’s gaze be quite so sharp, but it just seems to fade under the harsh, fluorescent lighting of their dorm room, slipping right off as a neutral expression— a mask— reappears on the younger boy’s face. it was as if this— this pitiful excuse of a discussion, this silent fight, whatever they were really doing— was no longer worth it. and then kai is mumbling something, grabbing for his keys on this little loop that beomgyu had hung up on the back of their front door, which the younger boy quietly closes as he takes his leave. 

the room is then empty, and beomgyu is now alone, but he guesses that he’s always just felt that way; no matter how many people were surrounding him, you couldn’t tell beomgyu that there was really anyone there besides him and his demons— others were far too easy to tune out.

but then again, maybe not everyone, because beomgyu can still feel the sensation of kai’s lips against his forehead, can still recall hands resting on his thigh or fisted in his hair, chests bumping together and touch electric in nature. it’s ever so impossible to forget, and beomgyu feels this knowledge weighing on him at all times. it was there, tucked into the furthest corners of his mind, but beomgyu just couldn’t seem to shake it loose no matter how hard he tried.

it’s not like kai never comes back, because kai is still a romantic, a true lover at heart. he’s the kind of guy who believes in patience and understanding and communication, but beomgyu just can’t do it, can’t say the right thing to make this all work, and maybe that’s when kai loses faith too. the younger boy’s trips back to their shared dorm become less frequent by the week, and then a large chunk of his clothes are gone too. beomgyu asks yeonjun once, just wanting to see if he knew whether or not kai was okay, and the older boy informs him that kai was now staying with a friend. the implications behind those words are heavy, and even with yeonjun’s tone being kind as ever, it was still curt, so beomgyu just gives a simple, solemn nod because it’s all he can do at this point.

if there was another thing beomgyu knows, it’s that the world does move on. because there have been so many disasters over the course of time, but the earth continues to spin through it all, and beomgyu, all things considered, was still there. on the surface, his life hadn’t changed very much either, still just consisting of him balancing his classes and job with a few moments of leisure here and there. 

but that’s not to say it doesn’t hurt. the lack of kai’s presence— his laughter, the way his lips would quirk up whenever he was amused, even his godforsaken mint chocolate ice cream pints in the freezer, which was now uncharacteristically empty with only one person filling it— all of it is painful.

then again, beomgyu figures that he doesn’t really deserve it anyway, doesn’t deserve anything to do with kai anymore. not when there was a new boy— one a little shorter than beomgyu himself, with bright red hair and impressively striking features— whose hand kai was holding around campus. it’s fitting, beomgyu thinks. because red symbolizes passion and love, and kai had always sought that. 

“ _it’s better to be loved,_ ” kai had said to beomgyu, way back when. not only better to be loved, but to feel loved too. but that was one thing that beomgyu couldn’t give right then, and so, kai stepped back. 

that should be it in theory, but then it’s finals week, and beomgyu’s professor is re-reviewing the syllabus— something that beomgyu had certainly lost ages ago— to quickly touch base on every single one of the thirty plus works that they had studied that semester.

“so students, do the ends justify the means?” the professor asks first with audible laughter in his voice, before briefly pausing to hear from the rows of tired students— it was a nine o’clock class, after all— staring back at him. 

he’s a fairly non-threatening fellow, being quite a bit shorter than beomgyu with a slightly balding scalp and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched on top of his nose. still, when he asks the ever famous question, beomgyu swears it feels like a blow straight to the gut.

“so do you think that it is better to be feared or loved?”

the choir responds, and beomgyu is the one who sings in the wrong key.

maybe there’s a few kids who agree with him, but beomgyu had foolishly gotten stuck in the first row that day after entering class a little later than usual. therefore, his disagreement is the most audible one to his professor, who immediately begins to inquire about his peculiar position, one of fear over love.

 _isn’t it obvious?_ beomgyu wants to say. _it’s less messy that way._

but everyone— most of his peers that are surrounding him, at least— keeps looking at beomgyu like he’s grown a third head. studying machiavelli’s work was supposed to give way to debate, but university students were always going to be rather idealistic, and beomgyu knows this. and with that, there sometimes comes this hope that things will work out for all of them, just the way that they’ve all planned, because they have to.

beomgyu isn’t like that; he can’t possibly bear to dream when he’s still being plagued with nightmares. because beomgyu is acutely aware of the fact that he broke kai’s heart, as the younger boy’s missing presence from their joint dorm seems to scream that very fact at him, and he can almost see kai’s shadow still lingering in his half of the room.

so all the black-haired boy does is shrug at first, before he’s continuing on with some flippant claim about power, and beomgyu knows that he must sound like a complete asshole, but perspective is just such a funny thing, he thinks.

“ _i don’t know, gyu. i think love might just be the most powerful thing,_ ” kai had told beomgyu once, right after beomgyu had gotten his big essay for this particular book returned. because of course beomgyu had naturally taken the side of the opposition, refuting the claim that everyone else was making. while his efforts to stand out had certainly paid off— beomgyu received resounding praise from this professor, in tandem with a high grade— kai had still made sure to poke fun at beomgyu’s pessimistic standpoint in between congratulating the older boy. back then, things were lighthearted and a little more simple; he and kai had celebrated that night by getting ice cream, as per their usual tradition when one of them did particularly well on an assignment. 

and despite kai’s choice of ice cream that day— being mint chocolate, as always— beomgyu had still kissed the younger boy under that one street lamp sitting right outside of their dorm building, enjoyed it all the same, and maybe even thought that said flavor might not be so bad after all (something he’d never dare to say out loud). so it’s just interesting, beomgyu thinks, how much opinions can differ.

just like their opinions on frozen desserts, beomgyu and kai were fundamentally different, because there’s another debate that has been consistently brought up in beomgyu’s classes, ones if human beings are inherently loving and “good” or not.

and there beomgyu was, still on the run from love, while kai tended to take the exact opposite route by diving in head first. that choice had caused kai some pain, and in theory, beomgyu should feel wise to have— hypothetically— avoided just that. but life was not so straightforward, never being painted in solely black and white; there are infinite shades of grey blurring these lines and erasing some of that contrast. in a way, that’s how beomgyu feels: bleak and a little dulled around the edges and so, so grey. 

his classmates are still peering over at him, and beomgyu thinks that they can see right through him, that they too were now painfully aware of his weak grasp on his emotions. maybe, like dogs, they can smell beomgyu’s fear on him.

because beomgyu had always been influenced by his own fear; it’s pungent and so, so strong over him. maybe beomgyu had spent so long being scared, absolutely terrified of what it would be like to let himself indulge in love once again, that he now wanted to be the one being feared rather than being fearful.

or maybe beomgyu would rather be feared so that kai would have never gotten hurt, because loving beomgyu surely seems to end up with pain on both sides. because this was just another example of that neverending cycle— of fuck ups, of regret, and of heartbreak.

it’s a little pathetic, beomgyu knows. but he keeps his head held high for the entirety of that class, even while mumbling his way through an explanation or two, and it’s not until beomgyu is walking through a tiny crossroad on his way back to the dorms when his chin first quivers, a tear spills, and he finally lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed. <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/decalcomoniaa)


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